Silent Moments At A Grand Hotel
by panicatthediscotime
Summary: Ever lost someone you loved?  Haydee is in denial.  Worse then that, actually, she is depressed.  Marrying her lovers brother, seeing demons or angels, can she fight the overwhelming fear inside her?


**I was inspired by Poe to write a story about my fears. **

**Silent Moments At A Grand Hotel**

The garden is bright with green grass and yellow tulips, however, my home is the opposite. I sit in a drab, gray room, everything stripped of life. The only furnishing is a bed. My being is in ruins. Instead of seeing the gaiety of living things, I see the world as a bottomless pit, waiting to devour me until I give up the will to fight. I won't give in to this arduous fight, I will be victorious! On the matter of this gloom, I have mostly myself to blame. A year after my inamorato died, I found myself waking to another. I couldn't stand the loneliness of being alone. Two weeks ago, my mother sent a letter to me, after hearing I was soon to become a courtesan (she received a letter from a "friend" of mine. I had no intention to become a courtesan); the audacity made me laugh. _Is she really wanting to help me?_ I thought darkly. Mother begged me in her letter to, "_Come home_", and, "_Start anew_". Deep inside me, a light of emotional happiness took over and I soon found myself on a train to my family's hotel.

* * *

"Haydee! My darling daughter," warm arms encircled my thin waist. "You've come back home. I am so glad Mark let you come and visit me! He really is a wonderful husband." Leading me up the stairs, never letting go of my pale hand, mother took me into a room I always hated. "I hope this is alright, we're booked for the next few months. A wedding I believe." She set my luggage onto the bed. "I will be down in the lobby. Come to me if you need me."

After hearing the door click shut, I sat on my bed and looked around my old room. The same desk with the golden drawer-handles was newly polished, the painting of my father hung proudly on the opposite wall. I gently raised a corner of my mouth, hoping this was part of a soon-to-be renewal.

* * *

Later that evening I walked down the winding stairwell. My mother was no where to be seen. Walking down the hallway, I felt chills go throughout my body, like a pair of thumbs were caressing my arms. Shaking the known feeling, I walked into the garden, my white gown shining in the moonlight. I found a stone bench, sat and gazed upon the lake. The water was smooth like glass.

When Ian died, Mark would always slam me into the window when I was bad. He blamed me for losing his brother. Then he'd force me to sleep with him, saying he'd forgive me for being a dark spirit and for killing Ian. I never killed Ian, or did I? My rationality has been going for months, would I be able to stay here without Mark finding me? Will he hurt me again? I woke out of my awful introspection and put my hands to my face. "Why am I like this?" Uncontrollable sobs escaped my mouth. "Ian! Why did you have to die?" I screamed at the moon. Blinking away hot, angry tears, I stood and glanced before me: a white light was walking towards me. Heart pounding, I fled into my parents hotel. Shutting the door quickly behind me, I gasped deep breaths of air. My mother ran down the stairs, tying her bathrobe, to me. She holds me, stroking my hair and whispering reassurances.

I am sitting on my bed looking at the closed suitcase. After the incident, as Mother calls it, three nights ago, my mother sent the coachman to "hastily attain Mr. Darden." My husband put on a wonderful act of fake tenderness. To my mother it seemed as if he were softly speaking to me when in reality he was declaring how he was going to hang me in the closet while expressing how much power he was holding back. Smiling at my mother, Mark looked at her, his eyes telling her I was going to be okay. Mother chuckled to herself and left the room. The carnal monster kissed me with lust and bit my lip, making it bleed. I pushed his body away from me, but he caught me in his fierce, bruising grip.

"I am going to make sure you never disobey me again."

I tried to scream as he aggressively ripped my dress from my body, but he slapped my mouth and told me to be a good.

* * *

I awoke and suddenly remembered the horror of last night, and started to cry. Letting my tears cascade down my cheeks, I got up and looked at my abused body in the mirror. Thank God Mark left after he was finished with me. I don't think I could have handled waking up to him and have to resume the previous activity. How long will I last?

* * *

These past six months have been of great torment. I sit on my bed, clutching my pillow, the whites of my knuckles showing, my eyes red and swollen from crying. Oh God! I can hear it. I have known it has been spying on me ever since Mark came to rescue me. It wants me to find a way out of this hell hole, somewhere safe. Cold is all around me as I hear the finger tapping on my window. NO! It wouldn't dare to come in. Mark will kill it, and I will be abandoned again. Putting my heavy, tired head into my pillow, I muffled soft cries. I hear a thump. I quickly look around the room, everything is in order-my night lamp is on, my door is closed, a book is laying open on my floor where it has always been. Where is this noise coming from? Surely Mark will hear it. Then he will come running up the stairs, open my door and hurt me. Mark doesn't care about me. He cares about my mother and the real love they make. There it is again! I don't know what to do! I know it is out there, sucking my cogency down its black throat. Mother and Mark think I am crazy, but I know it watches me. It watches me every second of every day. I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Mother and Mark are sleeping, for I heard them together three hours ago, talking of beds. My crying is uncontrollable. The door handle turns, I scramble under the covers, hiding my face from its eyes. I hear it step closer to me, I am trying not to breathe. A hand touches my shoulder. I throw back the covers. Ian! Crushing his body into mine, I let my emotions run out. "I knew it was you. They think I am demented." I looked into his face, the is the same as I remember him: beautiful gray eyes with blonde, shaggy hair. I trace the scar above his lip. My eyes are wet with renewed tears. My love for him never left me. Standing in one another's arms, the feeling was with pure tenderness; I hadn't felt this way for years. Ian puts his hand under my chin, tips my head back, and traces my lips with his before sealing them with a chaste kiss. We break apart and just before I can hear my beloved speak, Mark opens the door; his face is drained of all color.

"Ian." His whisper is barely audible.

The ghost looked at Mark with hatred and vanished instantly from my embrace. I can hear Mark seething with abhorrence. He suddenly looks my way, I can hear my body screaming. He walks to me. This time, I do not move. I stare directly into his gaze, lifting my chin to show I am not afraid. He smirks and grabs my arm. I hear my skull crack against the wooden floor, a wet warmth instantly oozes down my pale face. I feel sharp pieces of glass break into my skin, and I wince at the pain. Smashing my frame on the floor, his boot coming into contact with my ribs. He leaves me, laughing his way down the stairs. I smile weakly as I feel my eyes closing. I feel happy and warm. This time I know I will be with Ian forever.


End file.
